and me, but I also wanted to do something good. And I have. I’ve created life. You can’t put a price on that.” Her voice suddenly cracked, and she looked away, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
He studied her beautiful profile, saw a hint of moisture in her eyes and wondered if they were real tears or if this was perhaps part of a game. He didn’t trust tears, and it crossed his mind that she could be trying to manipulate him. It was possible. Elsa had taught him that.
“And you have no qualms about giving this precious life up?” he asked, unable to mask the ruthless edge in his voice. He was not the same man he’d been before Elsa. He doubted he’d ever be that man again.
Georgia made a soft, rough sound, and when she spoke again, her voice was husky. “It’s your son, not mine.”
“Your egg. Your womb.”
Her lips curved faintly, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I am little more than a fertile garden. The soil doesn’t weep when you sow or reap.”
An interesting answer, he thought. She was an interesting woman. “The soil isn’t a young female, either. Nurturing...maternal—”
“I’m not maternal,” she said, cutting him off, her tone almost icy.
“And yet you’re doing this to help provide for your sister.”
“That’s different. She is my family. She is already my responsibility. But I have no desire to ever have children of my own. No desire to add to that family, or assume more responsibilities.”
“You may feel differently later.”
She leaned forward, her expression intent. “Do you want me to feel differently later?”
He was shocked, not just by her words but by the way she moved in toward him. No one invaded his space. No one wanted to be near him. He intimidated women. He made people uncomfortable. And yet she leaned in, she challenged him, and after the shock faded, he understood why.
She wasn’t timid. She wasn’t weak. She was strong, and she was going to give him as good as he gave her.
He admired her boldness and her confidence. He admired strength and courage, but what she didn’t realize was that her challenge just whetted his appetite.
He wasn’t about to move back and give her distance and breathing room. He was going to move in. Get closer. Crowd her.
Not because he wanted to scare her, but her energy and resistance were waking him up, making him feel things he hadn’t felt in forever. And yet what was good for him wouldn’t necessarily be good for her.
He was troubled by his response to her. She fascinated him. And, yes, she looked like Elsa, but her personality was nothing like Elsa’s. While Elsa had needed to be shielded, protected, Georgia charged at him, refusing to shy away from conflict.
He found her stimulating.
Refreshing.
But he should warn her. He ought to tell her that she was stirring the beast, rattling his cage. He should let her know that she wouldn’t like it when he woke...that it was better, safer, smarter to keep him leashed, caged, dormant.
“Of course I don’t want you to feel differently later,” Nikos said now. “He is my son.”
“Good. I am glad we are in complete agreement on that.” She walked away from him then, heading to the sitting area under the thatched roof and taking a seat on the white slipcovered bench against the house.
He watched her cross her legs and sit back, the picture of calm and cool, but her air of calm, that cloak of control, jolted him. A shot of adrenaline. Another shot of hunger. But he needed to smash the desire, not encourage the response. Hungry wasn’t good. Hungry would hurt her.
He walked slowly toward her, studying her expression. From across the terrace she exuded serenity, and yet as he neared he saw a flicker in her eyes. She wasn’t sleepy or lazy. She was alert and very much on guard.
He dropped into a chair across from her, his long legs extending, taking some of her space. “In the car you asked me where I was going to raise my son.” Nikos paused a moment, his gaze skimming her stunning features, dropping from her full pink lips down the elegant throat to the pulse he could see beating at the base of her neck. She was not as calm as she pretended to be. Not by a long shot. “Why did you ask?” he added.
Her shoulders twisted. “Curious.”
“Curious about the life he’ll live, or curious about me?”
She shrugged again, even more carelessly than before. “I was just making conversation. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“I wasn’t at all uncomfortable. I love Kamari, so it was easy to answer. I will raise my son here. We will live here, and I will teach him about his family, his lineage, and make sure he is prepared to inherit the Panos business and fortune. He is my legacy. He is the future.”
For a moment after he’d finished speaking there was just silence. It wasn’t an easy silence. She was very much processing every word he was saying. Georgia Nielsen was no intellectual lightweight.
He gestured to her already nearly empty glass. “More water, Georgia?”
“I’m fine.”
Yes, she was. She was actually more than fine, and it would be a problem if he didn’t check his interest immediately. What they needed were boring topics. Safe subjects. And distance. “We Greeks like our water. We serve water with coffee, water with dessert. It’s often the beverage of choice—” His voice was drowned out by the roar of an engine.
He fell silent as the white Falcon that had brought Georgia to the island flew directly overhead. Georgia’s head tipped, and she watched the plane take off, soaring up into the sky.
“Your plane doesn’t stay here?”
“No. The hangar’s in Athens.”
She was still watching the jet. He watched her, appreciating the elegant lines and delicate angles of her face. The gold of her hair. The cool blue-gray of her eyes. Her complexion wasn’t pink but palest cream with just a hint of gold.
Elsa’s complexion hadn’t been honey, but pink and cream. Roses and porcelain. The blue of her eyes had been more violet. Her lips were smaller, her eyes set a little wider. Doll-like.
Georgia was nothing like a doll.
She turned her attention from the sky back to him. “Why Athens?”
“It’s where I keep all of my planes.”
“You have more?”
“Yes. Helicopters, too.”
“Any boats?”
“Of course. I live on a remote island.”
She pushed a blond tendril back from her brow. “Is it too late to tour the island now?”
“The
